


I Give Him Flowers

by hardboiledbaby



Series: A New Beginning [2]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, M/M, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:09:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardboiledbaby/pseuds/hardboiledbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Retirement fic, set in the period prior to "His Last Bow."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Give Him Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Watsons_Woes 2014 July Writing Prompts Challenge, prompt #6: _For me?: A botanical gift (from someone known or unknown)._

_Life is the flower for which love is the honey._  
—Victor Hugo

 

Holmes's desire to pursue beekeeping when we first moved to South Downs surprised me at first, but soon I understood his fascination with the little winged insects. The social structure of _Apis mellifera_ is fixed, yet their interactions are complex, purposeful. The behaviour of the bees provided an endless source of data to be observed, analysed, and recorded. Here was an experiment my friend would not tire of, it seemed.

I understood his fascination, I say, though I did not share it; unlike my previous involvement in his work, my enthusiasm for his new occupation was rather less keen in comparison and usually practised at a safe distance. I found I could contribute in other ways, however. Bees need flowers, after all. Though I had not been particularly interested in horticulture before, never having had the time nor the wherewithal to pursue such an activity, I took it up with a will in the fields behind our cottage. 

It required considerable effort, to be sure, and many setbacks were had, but eventually the garden flourished. Early crocuses in the spring, fragrant lavender for the summer and fall months, honeysuckle for winter. And roses, of course. I found I enjoyed the fresh air and the feel of good English soil in my hands. And Holmes, for all that he was the most urbane of men, took to country living with far more ease and grace than I would have thought possible. 

I gave him flowers, he gave me honey. The apiary was his domain, the garden, mine. It has ever been so, but today, for perhaps the first time in nearly a decade, I donned suit and veil and approached the hives.

"He left this morning," I said, "on a matter of the utmost national import."

That I was not permitted to go with him, that I would be a hindrance and a liability to his covert mission, that we knew not how long the mission would last—these things I did not say. They were all true and could not be changed. There was no point in upsetting the bees.

"I have been charged with your care in his absence," I continued. "I know I am a poor substitute, but I have promised him, and I promise you now, I will do my best. 

"You will help me, won't you? You would not want to disappoint him, any more than I would."

The ever-present hum ceased, and there was absolute quiet for the briefest of moments. 

I nodded. 

Winter was coming, but we would survive the evil days. I would tend the hives, nurture the broods, and wait for the man I loved to return to me. Wait for the day I could give him flowers again.

**Author's Note:**

> I have the blackest of thumbs, and an American one at that, so please pardon any errors: cultural, horticultural, or otherwise.


End file.
